


Centuries-Old Backseat Drivers

by goldenteaset



Category: Fate/Zero
Genre: Always check the weather forecast before driving your flying chariot, Driving Lessons, Fluff and Humor, Gen, Murphy's Law, The Gordius Wheel has no driver's manual so good luck, Timeline What Timeline, Waver accidentally made some friends, Waver's also not sure this was a good plan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-28
Updated: 2015-02-28
Packaged: 2018-03-15 14:01:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,435
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3449762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goldenteaset/pseuds/goldenteaset
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“This will be good for you,” says Roxana. “And have no fear, Calanus did not foresee your death.” Judging by the <i>clink</i>ing noise, Thais just poured her one last cup of wine.</p>
<p>Wine bought with <i>Waver’s</i> very thin wallet. Didn’t they have alcohol to spare in…<i>wherever</i> they lived in Rider’s head?</p>
<p>Thais speaks up, her tone nearly giddy. “Conquering yourself is the first step to conquering the world. Wouldn’t you agree, Iskandar?”</p>
<p>“Indeed!” booms Rider, making Waver’s heart jolt. “Enough dawdling—your education begins <i>now</i>, boy!”</p>
<p>Waver has never wanted to learn anything less. And yet a traitorous part of him makes him look down at the reins, then to the blue sky up ahead, and think <i>All right, here we go then.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Centuries-Old Backseat Drivers

**Author's Note:**

> I'm still genuinely surprised this didn't happen in canon. (On the other hand, when would they've had time?) Speaking of timelines, if I had to place this anywhere it'd be before Waver and Iskandar's trip to the library/Caster's rampage.
> 
> Also this kept threatening to become "shooting the breeze with Waver Velvet and his newfound Macedonian friends (not that he'll call them friends yet)", which would be/was fun but kept going endlessly without any stopping point. (Now you know why I haven't written them much yet.)
> 
> Anyway, hope you enjoy. :D
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own Fate/Zero, nor Alexander the Great's companions.

Waver grumbles and adjusts the cushions propping him up on the driver’s seat, relieved once he’s able to look beyond the back of the Gordius Wheel’s oxen and at the surrounding trees. _If there is a God, please oh_ please _let this go well._

He should’ve suspected that asking Rider how to drive the Gordius Wheel would result in him taking impromptu driving lessons. Now he wants to melt through the chariot into the grassy hill as the wood shudders and the _other_ instructors climb aboard.

_Of course Rider can make this monstrosity even bigger for his friends’ sake. At least he only brought along three people, and not the whole army…_

“Fear not, boy,” says Hephaestion from behind Waver, actually having the nerve to ruffle his hair. “If anything _were_ to happen, we’ll keep you safe.”

“…Thanks,” Waver says, embarrassed when it comes out as a squeak.

“This will be good for you,” says Roxana. “And have no fear, Calanus did not foresee your death.” Judging by the _clink_ ing noise, Thais just poured her one last cup of wine.

Wine bought with _Waver’s_ very thin wallet. Didn’t they have alcohol to spare in… _wherever_ they lived in Rider’s head?

Thais speaks up, her tone nearly giddy. “Conquering yourself is the first step to conquering the world. Wouldn’t you agree, Iskandar?”

“Indeed!” booms Rider, making Waver’s heart jolt. “Enough dawdling—your education begins _now_ , boy!”

Waver has never wanted to learn anything less. And yet a traitorous part of him makes him look down at the reins, then to the blue sky up ahead, and think _All right, here we go then._

“First, take hold of the reins,” Rider says, “and snap them.”

“Pull up, then quickly down,” Hephaestion adds, the chariot jostling again as he fidgets in the back.

“Uh, like this?” Waver says, as he does as instructed.

His back slams against the polished wood behind him as the Gordius Wheel surges forward. The lowing of the oxen makes his body vibrate even more than it already is. Rider and his friends cheer loudly behind him, and for a moment he’s relieved.

Then they remember they’re supposed to be instructing him, and Waver is bombarded with words piling atop each other like an uneven book stack. Thais and Hephaestion are the main culprits.

“Excellent, now to make them go faster—”

“—Oh, if you want to turn—”

“—And to slow down you need to—”

“—Let the boy _think_ ,” Rider and Roxana say in unison, as if they’re scolding children.

Before Waver can _attempt_ to think, his heart drums in his chest as he realizes they’re headed straight for some trees. And they’re going faster.

“What do I do? _What do I do?_ ”

“ _Pull up_ ,” his instructors bellow unhelpfully in unison.

Waver can only shove himself to the side and hope for the best. Miraculously, it works; the oxen turn obediently to the right. Waver lets out the breath he’d been holding.

“Excellent thinking, boy!” Rider pats him on the head proudly, seemingly oblivious to his student’s adrenaline-spiked shaking. “You really should have pulled up, though.”

_My instructors at the Clock Tower are looking downright angelic now. At least they weren’t centuries-old backseat drivers…_

“O-Okay, so…how _do_ I pull up? _One_ person gets to answer.”

Apparently it’s Roxana’s turn. It takes an embarrassingly long time for Waver to get what she’s trying to say—he suspects it’s related to the Grail giving him the ability to translate only _Rider’s_ speech. Thankfully, their traveling pace is easy and he knows how to avoid trees now, which lets him pay more attention. (Rider helps translate, once the language barrier becomes apparent.)

Eventually he understands, and is pleased when the Gordius Wheel rises higher into the sky, and Roxana gives him her warm congratulations.

Now they’re traveling just above the treetops, and it’s quite the view—a swaying patchwork quilt of varying shades of green, with mud-dark rivers swirling in between like lines of stitches. If Waver squints, he can see the occasional silver spark of a fish jumping out of the clear(er) waters. It’s all very tranquil, and he lets out a contented sigh.

“Geese, straight ahead!” Hephaestion yells, and Waver has just enough time to direct the chariot down and out of the way of an irately honking flock.

The honks and laughter of his instructors are enough to give him a small—and growing—headache. _Seriously,_ why _did I agree to this? It must’ve been some kind of temporary insanity…_

He feels the eerie sensation of some goose feathers falling onto his head and the back of his neck. Thais rescues Waver from the uncomfortable tickling sensation by plucking them deftly off him; judging by the amused growls and the way the Gordius Wheel shakes, she’s probably trying to stick the feathers behind Rider and Hephaestion’s ears.

Out of the corner of his eye, Waver sees the feathers glide away in a passing breeze. _Maybe some kids will like them._

Somebody’s stomach growls, and Rider says cheerily “Say, boy, would you like to practice flying around town? We could buy some food afterward!”

“Um…maybe? I’d like to just try navigating around here some more.” Waver thinks of all the buildings they could crash into and shudders.

“I suppose that makes sense,” Rider says. Hephaestion, Thais and Roxana reluctantly murmur their agreement.

Waver continues practicing turns and directing the oxen upward and downward with the currents, only half-listening to Rider and the others’ conversation. It’s something about a chariot-racing match long ago that had ended in an all-out brawl, and at least two horses on a roof. _I guess some sports are dangerous no matter the era, huh…_

After awhile, Waver’s belly betrays him, and reluctantly they set off for Fuyuki. Unfortunately, they don’t get very far.

The once gentle breeze has now entered puberty. Like many newly minted adolescents, everything it was holding back before comes forth in a howling rage. (Waver likes to think he’s beyond such behavior. He knows otherwise.)

The Gordius Wheel creaks ominously as the gale-force winds roar and pound against it, throwing them off course. The sun hides behind ink-dark clouds bloated with rain. Waver barely has time to let out a curse as needle-sharp raindrops assault them without warning.

With the rain obscuring his vision, he finds himself desperately trying to wipe the wetness from his eyes and barely holding on to the reins.

His heart jolts with terror as the rain-slicked leather slips from his fingers—

—Only for Rider’s huge hand to reach out and grab them.

Relief floods through Waver as his Servant easily climbs up front beside him, his cloak shielding him in sudden dry heat. He could do without Rider squishing him up toward his beefy side— _Historians would_ kill _to smell Alexander the Great’s smelly armpits, but_ I’d _rather not get a whiff, thanks_ —but if nothing else, now he’s _extra_ warm.

Waver feels the chariot’s load lighten under his feet, and suspects that Rider just saved his companions from getting soaked by placing them back in the Reality Marble. (He wishes he could be there, too, but oh well.)

“I suppose you’ll just have to rest and pay attention, boy!” Rider’s voice is almost as loud as the rain.

Waver’s quite all right with that. He stares at the confident gleam in Rider’s eye, the stark white of his teeth against the dismal gray around them, the way his calloused hands hold the reins steady and sure. His laughter is rough with merry determination.

_Could I be like that one day?_

Waver’s glad that the rain is too loud, so he can keep such stupid thoughts to himself.

The struggle through the storm seems to pass very quickly and very slowly all at once. The oxen are churning through the rain as best they can, snorting and shaking their heads in annoyance. The Gordius Wheel’s smooth wood is wet and as black as the clouds rolling ominously above.

Waver can feel Rider’s cloak pressing heavy and soaked against his head and side, and wonders how come Rider’s not shivering as badly as he is. His red hair is plastered wet and dark to his head, but he doesn’t seem to mind the thick raindrops sliding down his face. 

Waver sighs and thinks of how warm the Mackenzie’s house will be.

\---

Once they’ve returned “home” (Rider’s words, not Waver’s), Roxana, Thais and Hephaestion join them up in Waver’s room for some hot chocolate and sweet biscuits (both courtesy of Martha). _Martha probably thinks the extra three mugs are for Rider…at least, I hope so._

He could do without their comments about “giving his tailbone a rest”, but Waver doesn’t mind sitting on the bed while the others take up all the floor space and lounge around on cushions.

He _does_ mind this feeling that he failed somehow, even though he knows he should be used to it by now.

Waver sighs and stares down solemnly at his steaming mug. “I’m sure you’re all pretty disappointed.”

“Wiff wha’?” Hephaestion says, his mouth full of biscuits. He swallows loudly. “I mean, ‘with what’? Not many new chariot drivers your age would even hold those reins as long as you did.”

Thais points her lemon-yellow biscuit at him like a teacher’s baton. “If you’re planning on being an obsessive perfectionist, Waver Velvet, your right to eat these biscuits is now forfeit.”

He instinctively presses his full plate closer to his chest. “What the— _why?_ ”

“Because, boy,” Rider says, casually snatching a grape biscuit from his plate. “You’re far too hard on yourself. Your self-imposed desire to be perfect at anything you touch will cause your humors to act up.” He claps Waver on the shoulder, making Waver nearly pitch over into his plate. “So relax, warm yourself up, and treasure today’s adventure!”

Roxana nods and sips her hot chocolate. Her long red hair narrowly misses being dunked in the mug. Her hands look very gentle and small against the green ceramic—but they certainly aren’t dainty.

It becomes clear by the four pairs of intense eyes staring at him that he’s supposed to say something. _I wish you’d tell me_ what _I’m supposed to say…_

Waver sighs again. “Fine, _fine_ , I’ll try to think positively.”

Thais beams at him as though everything’s been fixed. “Excellent. Eat your food freely, then.”

Rider munches on the grape biscuit he snitched, then makes a face. “Ugh, except for those grape ones. They taste like wine turned to chalk.”

“Do they?” Roxana picks one off of her plate and nibbles at it. She makes a pleased noise. “I have no idea what you mean, dear. It tastes sweet to me.”

Rider dumps his grape biscuits onto her plate with a clatter, looking pleased to be rid of them. “Eat your fill, then!”

The others have a taste too, and soon Hephaestion and Roxana’s plates are overflowing with royal purple and soft violet. (Waver thinks the grape ones are tolerable—just sweet enough.) He’s thankful that sugar doesn’t seem to affect Heroic Spirits very much, unlike wine.

Hephaestion pretends to throw one of his purple biscuits at Thais. “My friends, I believe we have witnessed a miracle! Food made of grapes that Thais despises!”

“‘Chalk-textured wine’ is quite accurate. Give me actual grapes—and wine, for that matter—over such a foul taste!”

Roxana brushes a lock of hair behind her ear. “ _Any_ wine at all? Or one in particular?”

While the other Heroic Spirits’ chatter turns to a friendly debate about the best wine they’ve ever tasted, Rider glances thoughtfully over at Waver. Waver’s not sure what precisely that look in his Servant’s red eyes means, only that it makes him put aside his half-empty plate and pay attention.

“Did your heart thrill with excitement today, boy?”

_Now_ there’s _an unexpected question._ “Uh, well…is this a ‘life or death’ sort of thing?”

Rider gets up off the floor and gently settles himself down onto the edge of the bed next to him. “Well, no, not really. Just a question from a King to his Master.”

_No way can I be called your Master._ Waver shoves the thought away. _Stay positive, hah. Good one._

Rider’s brows furrow in a mock-threatening manner. “I saw that look. No, don’t bother making excuses for it. Unfortunately for you, boy, I know you by now. Do you want me to lecture you about black bile? It will be quite boring.”

“You? _Boring?_ I doubt that.”

“Hmm. I suppose that’s your idea of a compliment. Very well, I’ll take it. Now, about my question…”

Waver rubs the back of his neck. “…I guess I’d like to continue my driving lessons. Just—let’s check the weather next time, okay?”

“Of course! That was a mistake we won’t make again!”

“Good.” Waver feels tempted to consider the discussion over and done, but by now he suspects that when he feels that way, their talk has only just begun.

“I must introduce you to more of my friends,” Rider says, and there’s something _urgent_ buried deep within his voice that makes Waver’s heart clench.

“What’s the rush? I mean, when we win this war, we’ll have plenty of time.”

Thais interrupts whatever Rider is about to say. “That optimism suits you well, Waver. You certainly are a fast learner!”

Waver’s feeling of worry lessens and is replaced with embarrassed pride. “I—thanks.”

Roxana smiles at him from over her mug. “So, shall we continue your driving lessons tomorrow—in Fuyuki this time? If you manage not to hit any buildings, we can buy you your first bottle of wine. The finest vintage for the fastest student.”

Waver can’t help it. He flails and tries to explain how he’s not _quite_ legal yet, don’t they know the law, and even if he wanted to, why would wine by a motivator for him?

“If you _really_ want to motivate me, offer me a priceless book, or something,” he says without thinking. His teeth _click_ together as his big mouth closes as quickly as it opened.

All at once, Rider and his companions say “We have the scripts for _Proteus_ ,” in the same helpful tone one might say “I found a ladder”.

“…Oh,” Waver says, his mind whirling at the thought of holding—let alone _reading_ —one of the mysterious lost Satyr plays. “Well, then. I guess that's fair.”

Rider’s delighted laughter makes the room shudder, and if Waver’s lips are curled upward a little—well, that’s just because he’s glad to be out of the rain.

**Author's Note:**

> Feedback is appreciated! :)


End file.
